


Drowning in the Moonlight

by malurette



Series: malu tries to write in english [1]
Category: Yoko Tsuno (Comics)
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Spaceships, Zero-gravity sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 04:33:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17015805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malurette/pseuds/malurette
Summary: Yoko x Khany zero-G PWP... yup that's about it.





	Drowning in the Moonlight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kaz_shirakawa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaz_shirakawa/gifts).



> (title is borrowed from a Carrie Fisher quote)  
> not quite as porny as I wished  
> still needs a grammar/language beta  
> I hope it's still to your liking  
> (if not, I also have a draft of Vic/Yoko UST I could finish as a New Year Resolution?)  
> I had a lot of fun doing it so thank you so much for offering the prompt!

Yet another space travel, Yoko and her friends soaring between strange stars, on a mission on behalf of Vinea… to study some weird phenomenon detected in a nearby system, hoping to maybe find there another one of the eleven Vinean Arks. Is there really a link between the lost spaceship and what’s observed there, will they find something totally unrelated , nobody knows but they’re still going. Whatever it is, adventure will always await them, and there’s still a long way to go. It would be easier to spend the whole time in the hibernation pods, but Yoko likes being able toenjoy the starry view and the powerful feeling of… well not exactly piloting, as it’s already on its course and doesn’t need much maneuvering, but at least knowing that this ship, this marvel of technology, belongs to her and obeys her.  
She takes advantage of the fact that her companions are strapped on their bunks, where sleep is artificially induced and controlled—intensity and duration are modulable. Khany knows how to fiddle with it, oh so slightly, so upon waking up sleepers will be perfectly rested. They'll never know better.  
Morning Dew and Poky too: first because growing children need more rest than adults, also because they both have this habit of slipping past adults' notice and go explorate every single remote hidden place they can find. Yoko understands: given such an opportunity she would have done exactly when she was their age!  
But right now it just so happens that she wishes to explorate something very different, away for inquiring eyes and hears. How hard it is to get some privacy on a spaceship, even one as big as this one!

Khany is the only one besides herself still awake. Yoko sets the ship's AI in semi-sleep mode too. Life support cannot be turned off and safety systems stays on, as always, just in case, but nobody, not even her self-appointed robotic guardian angel, should be allowed to witness what happens next. It will be the two of them, just the two of them.  
There is sadly no place comfortable enough on board for what they intend to do: everything is built with sheer efficiency in mind: functional but impersonal. The pilot seat is too narrow for two people to sit on it together. The sleeping room's bunks... are too risky. What if, in spite of the sleeping machines, or if a malfunction should happen, they managed to wake up their friends? And even so, it's way too embarrassing, it would feel too much like doing it with an audience.  
Instead they take another risk, calculated: they shut down the artificial gravity. They float freely in the desk room and get a very good excuse to grab one onto the other. 

They open their suits wide. They could get them totally off: the controlled habitat settings ensures a balmy room temperature, but having floating fabric to ball fists into gives them more grip. Standard space station tight stretchy suits leave nothing to imagination when it comes to a body's shape, flexibility, and athletic prowess they can lean themselves to whenever adventure calls for it—and it often happens, in fact.  
Still, the suits cover them from neck to toes, and often to the wrist but sometimes gloves reach the fingertips too, and so, they hid almost all the body, its skin and its mysteries. Now they show all the shades in their skintones, the slight variations in hue and texture, the places where skin gets lighter, softer, they free its natural fragrance, and even reveal its taste when they choose to kiss and lick each other. 

The bodies of a Terran and a Vinean are both built on the same same shape, chance convergent evolution ensuring the same general anatomy—or was it maybe directed evolution of Terran primitive apes, tinkered by experimenting ancient Vineans?—but presenting different colours.  
Yoko's skin has a light golden, creamy complexion, and turns a sweet pinkish hue here and there where blood rushes in. Khany's a soft blue, as beautiful as a clear sky on sunny weather, be it on Earth or Vinea, darkening to lavender shades; her flowing hair as golden as rays of sunshine and once freed from gravity, the band she wears can't hold all of it back anymore. She has to quickly braid it—nothing like the sophisticated hairdos so many of her friends often wear, that Terran visitors admire, but are too complicted, too long to achieve she usually feels they're not worth her time when she has so much to do. Yoko's hair, as dark as the empty space between stars, forms a halo around her head, held back from her face by the thought transmitter's tiara.  
The item thus acts as a mere accessory, but its primary function is essential: it allows the both of them to understand each other, past the language barrier, translating their words, uniting their thoughts, letting them share everything they feel: sensations, wants, needs, reactions...  
Each one knows her own body and the way to pleasure herself, where to stroke, how fast, how deep, how hard, and they guide one the other's hand. One's plesaure's also felt by the other. 

Breasts freed of both gravity and spacesuits that always flatten them from being so tight, now get more volume, a new rounder shape, and an unequaled quality to the touche, never felt otherwise. Entwinning and hooking their legs gets them a solid anchoring together, freeing their hands to grab, palpate, caress wherever they want. The action-and-reaction law of movement that tends to force their bodies apart can't prevent fingers slipped inside their bodies to move however they want. And orbiting mechanics have nothing to say on the warmth and wetness of their own knid of celestial bodies and their openings, anyway.  
Just rubbing one against the other proves difficult in these conditions, movements in zero-G meeting no resistance and coming to little effects, counteracting hard to enact, but finger penetration is still doable. And wonderful. They have to get daring and imaginative with their physical stimulation, getting a more than welcome boost on top of it from their deep intimacy. Shared thoughts bring intense pleasure, effectively doubled: which one of them climaxes and comes first, which one follows suite? They couldn't care at all, not when they both feel each other's orgasm and ride wave after echoing wave. 

Even when it's over they still stay embraced quite a while, simply enjoying each other's comforting presence. They keep floating around, gently, until their radom drift bring them in contct with a solid surface, grip it in reflex and now really have to get down. A micro-gravity shower offers them one last way to keep the private moment going, then to make every last trace of it disappear. They change to fresh suits, get the articifial gravity back on, and take some time to redo each other's hair. The way hair gets back down under returning gravity gives them one last sensual feel. They share a few sweet kisses, and finally switch the AI back to full wakeful mode. They check that everything on board is going the way it's supposed to go, and make their way to their own bunks... separate bunks, to get some accelerated artificial slumber while the remaining crew finish their own sleep time.  
A twinge of sadness comes to pass with the knowledge that once they're asleep they'll be dead to the world around and not even dream of each other, they won't get any chance of experiencing one last echo of their secret encounter. Every stolen moment like this one must be enjoyed as it comes, as long as it lasts, before it leaves them in the in-between, waiting for the next opportunity, always too far apart, always too short... but at least they make the best of each one, every time.


End file.
